Kisses
by aliencatt
Summary: As Dean grew, he missed those childhood kisses from his father... Pre series. Pre wincest.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

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**Pre series. Pre slash. Pre Wincest**

**No real warnings**

**A/N...** Just a short one to keep my hand in.

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==000==

Kisses.

Dean missed the kisses.

He was four when his dad stopped kissing him and he could have been jealous because all his daddy's kisses went to Sammy. When they went to bed at night, his dad would bend down and kiss the baby then he would sit up and run his hand through Dean's hair. Not that he didn't like the gesture, he just missed the kisses. And as they lay there, all three on a bed in some horrid room with no animals on the wall and no dumper trucks on the floor for his father to trip over like at home, he too would place a kiss on Sammy's cheek and see his dad smile.

But it was not the happy smile that he used to have when he would lift him up and swing Dean around or the quieter smile he would give their mother when he got home from work at whatever time, usually when Dean was pretty sleepy, but a sort of sad smile. His dad's smiles were not the same anymore since they'd left mom behind. There was no light in his eyes and Dean may only be four, _nearly five_, but he knew it was because of what that thing had done to his Mommy.

As time went on and Dean became so helpful to his dad, still the kisses were reserved for Sammy. They would be left for long periods of time with people that he did not know but was told to, 'mind what they say' and 'do as you're told', and there were no kisses at all. Only the ones Dean gave little Sammy.

Dean kissed little Sammy a lot because it would make the baby, the toddler smile. He loved to see the delight on the chubby face as he would plant a kiss on his cheek, on his nose. That was Sammy's favourite, when he would kiss his nose. It always made him laugh, and sneeze more often than not. That was fun too. Sammy always looked so surprised when he sneezed. He would look up at Dean with big clear eyes and, although he could not talk yet, Dean knew he was saying, 'what was that?'

By the time Dean was seven, he and Sammy spent more time on the road with their dad who he had already come to call, 'Sir'. Still as they sat there in the quiet of the latest motel room, their father would reserve his kisses for Sammy, squirming on his lap as they finished supper, with Dean stood close by his side, an arm around him. It became a ritual and Dean liked it although he still would have liked his kisses back.

So as John kissed the never still Sammy goodnight on his cheek and rubbed at Dean's head, Dean bent and placed a kiss of his own on his father's stubble covered cheek. The hair stabbed at his lips but that was good because it meant he had done it. He had thought about it for ages wondering if he dare as kisses were only for Sammy. His dad had leant back looking at him surprised and Dean quavered but then there was one of those so rare smiles, not quite as sad as they used to be and Dean smiled too, knowing he had turned a little pink. "Bed, now," he was told kindly and feeling that big hand pat him on the back, Dean grabbed the resisting Sammy and started the process of getting his tireless younger brother to go through the motions of preparing, then actually getting in bed.

The only thing that would finally settle the four year old down was a whispered story and finally, goodnight kisses.

John was sure that this 'kissing thing' with his boys would wear off as soon as they decided that they were too old. He had tried to stop it himself but that just seemed to make them even more miserable and determined and, in a life as devoid as theirs of love and happiness, he saw no harm in it. He did not see them often enough for it not to actually feel kind of nice to be greeted home with a hug from Sammy, a smile from Dean and then a goodnight kiss. He really did think that he should do something about it when he realised that for some time now, Dean had been planting his chaste little kisses on his lips, especially as this last one had lasted a second or two too long and had actually made him take notice and not be just something in passing. He looked at Dean but the boy just grabbed hold of the growing Sammy and said, "Bed, now."

His boys were growing and they did everything he asked of them, especially his eldest. He knew he placed too much on the still thin shoulders of the young teenager but he had his burdens too. It was left to Dean to raise his brother and tend to the family as he also learnt to fight, to protect that family just as John had had to learn and still was. He could not help but see the hurt in his eldest boy's eyes as he turned his head slightly avoiding that kiss on his lips. The sooner Dean discovered girls the better.

He stayed away for longer and longer stretches, knowing that Sammy would be safe with Dean whereas he found it harder and harder to see that reproach in the teenager's eyes causing him to take yet another slug of whiskey in turn making it harder to resist those yearning green eyes.

Sam hitting teenage years made it all so much harder as he refused to sleep with Dean any longer, stating that is was gross, that Dean had 'slimed on him'. Things becoming worse as Dean refused to look at or even talk to Sam, John finding he had to take another drink before he could explain to his youngest just why, 'he had embarrassed his brother'.

Dean was hurt as Sammy turned from him. He could keep the knowledge from his brother but not his father. There were no more goodnight kisses as John lay stiffly, turned away and Dean was so scared to move in case he touched his father accidentally. Sammy was the only one to get any sleep, oblivious to the tentions in a bed on his own.

Another few years and Dean had discovered girls. He got his kisses. He got much more but still they never made him feel as he knew those missing kisses from his father would. He felt no need to impress these giggling females but worked hard to get an approving look or gesture from his father.

Becoming more and more involved in the hunt, John stopped worrying about Dean and placed more and more on his shoulders. His son was becoming a man and he treated him as such. A slap on the back, a hand on his shoulder as he acknowledged a job well done. Concerned more with the teen version of Sammy who argued with everything, he missed the signs as Dean spent so much time around him working out shirtless, bumping into him constantly and always handing him a fresh beer standing close.

Many a night, when John was too tired from the hunt or from arguing with Sammy, he would fall into bed too weary to contend with his youngest and said nothing as his eldest began to slip in to bed with him. Too often he would wake to feel Dean pushed up against him thinking it nothing more than due to a late teen's dream.

On being told that Dean had let Sammy stay over at a friends he had been shocked and dismayed that Dean had allowed such a thing. He looked at his son and did not see a disrespectful or abashed teen but an adult staring back at him. With a very adult expression on his face.

Dean stood there and glowered at his father with dark hooded eyes. He had arranged it all. He wanted those missing kisses and was determined to get them.

"Bed…Now!" he said.

==end==

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